Love Hurts

 

“Are you serious?” I asked him in disbelief.

He didn’t say a word.

“Gil?” I said, this short of getting infuriated. But that’s what he wanted. He wanted me mad, angry. He wanted me flailing around like a crazed animal. This was so he could take control of the situation and show me who the man was, who was the boss. He wanted to show me so bad.

I wasn’t having it.

Without a word, I got up and crossed the room to the front door. Once I reached it, he was there, barring my way. We hadn’t had sex yet but since the day I met him, I knew we would. But not now. I hated him at that moment. I wanted him to leave and I never wanted to lay eyes on him again.

“Where you going?” he asked.

I could have slapped him but I didn’t. I restrained myself, gained control of my feelings and said calmly, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re the one who’s leaving. It’s late and I need to go to bed.”

He leaned back and gave me the once over. “Can’t take it, can you, Mina?”

“Please get out,” I said but didn’t open the door.

“Can’t take it,” he said mockingly. “Can dish it out, but she can’t take it.”

I hated men like him. I hated them pushing my buttons. I hated succumbing to these feelings of hatred, irritation and frustration. But that’s what we did to each other, men like him, women like me; we succumbed to the hate and then, as we clawed through the hate, we got to the love. It was a long, tiring process. It was enough to drive anyone insane.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said, infuriated.

“Such a pretty girl,” he said. “But a mouth like a sailor.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said dryly. “I don’t know any sailors.”

He laughed, loving my smart mouth. His eyes scanned over me, taking me in, almost consuming me. He liked what he saw. He liked it a lot. He liked the curves set in my petite frame. He liked my dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. He liked the spray of freckles on my chest, which he’d commented on before. He liked me, it was that simple.

I didn’t know if I wanted to return the favor.

“I’m sure you don’t know any sailors,” he said and grinned at me.

He was so getting on my nerves. So bad. Why didn’t he just leave? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But what it was supposed to be like was beyond my comprehension. What were we even doing together? We didn’t know each other that well. We’d only just met a few weeks or so ago and had only been on a few dates since. We’d met at a mutual friend’s engagement party and he had asked me if I was married. I had told him no, I wasn’t. In fact, I’d never been married. I had been engaged though, just a few weeks ago, until my ass of a boyfriend broke up with me to run off with some hussy he’d met in a bar. No, I didn’t tell him that. I didn’t tell him how pissed off I’d been at first, but then, oddly enough, relieved. It was over and I was happy that I didn’t have to break up with him, which I had, in fact, wanted to. Instead I told Gil I was still engaged, off limits, and to leave me alone. He told me someone had told him I wasn’t engaged anymore. I didn’t have a clue as to who had told him that but I was irritated at them for it.

But the fact was, I was intimidated by him. I really didn’t want him to know anything about me, lest he try to use it against me later, lest he try to manipulate me into something. I had tried to stop whatever it was we might have before its inception, but had been unsuccessful. And so, here we were, after an awkward date, fighting like we’d been married for years. It was odd. We had this kinetic energy that seemed to get under our skins and drive us crazy.

Why I had agreed to go out with him in the first place was beyond me. Perhaps I was a glutton for punishment.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the sex would be like, though. The other day, after yet another disastrous date, he’d come back here to my apartment and found a riding crop I had left in the corner of the living room. He asked me why I had one of these. I’d told him I rode, of course, and kept my horse at a nearby stable. It was one of my biggest pleasures, riding. He went over and picked the crop up and said, “Ever thought of doing something else with this?” I immediately knew he meant—something sexual—and was flooded with embarrassment. I didn’t know what exactly he would do with the crop, but I knew enough that it would be just a little kinky. And I wasn’t ready for kinky. I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready for that. I’d had a somewhat dull sexual relationship with my ex, very vanilla and before him I’d only slept with a few other guys. So, I was a little inexperienced in that capacity.

This was probably the reason Gil and I had this strained thing going on between us. I knew he was the kind of guy to push my limits, to push me beyond my boundaries. He was so manly, such a take-charge kind of guy. But I wasn’t that kind of girl. I held back too much. That’s why all of this was scary to me. It was new. It was something I’d never experienced before.

He was staring at me again, his eyes not leaving me. I sighed and felt so self-conscious and just so… Well, pent up. But I wasn’t having this, whatever it was he wanted to give me. I was also unsure if we’d ever be able to make this work. “I’ve changed my mind,” I told him. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked softly.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Like hell you’re not.”

“Please,” I said, hating the sound of my voice, just this short of begging. “Please just get out.”

“Why?” he said. “Why don’t you want it?”

I looked away in embarrassment. I didn’t know. We’d been so close just a few minutes ago and I’d turned it off. Just like that. I mean, I did want it but there was this conflict I had. I had a hard time trusting, that’s all. And I had a hard time trusting Gil. I knew he’d be a good lover, better than any I’d had before him. However… Well, I just couldn’t seem to take that initial yet so crucial step to get to the sex.

“It’s not right,” I said. “I’m engaged.”

He chuckled. “Playing that card, are you? You know I know it’s not true.”

I blanched. He was right. Yeah, we were, we were broken up, my ex and I. I was a free woman, more or less. But free from what? And to do what? I didn’t know and didn’t care to analyze what that might mean. But then, I shivered with shame, thinking of all the personal details of my life that I’d lain out on the table for him to pore over, to dissect, to use against me later. I should have played my cards a little closer to my vest.

“Come on,” he said. “You know you want it.”

And that was the problem. I did want it and I wanted it from him. And here I was, presented with the perfect opportunity to get it and all I could do was run away. It was like having a crush on someone then getting the chance to talk to them, but you can’t. You stutter and stammer and make a damn fool out of yourself. Then they see you, they see the need in you and they run, don’t they? They always run away from it, from that need, lest they lose themselves in it. They were afraid of giving themselves up to the love, to your love. They’re afraid of losing themselves in your need. That’s why they always made it so hard. It was a battleground, love. And everyone wanted to fight.

That’s when I got it. I finally understood. Love hurts. It hurts a lot. Even if you’re no longer in love with the person who hurt you. It hurts and makes fools of people, just like the fool I’d become when my ex dumped me. Even if I didn’t care and even if I didn’t really want him anymore, I had been hurt by it. Rejection was a terrible thing. It made people insecure and question themselves. It can shut them off from the world, too, from new love entering because they might just be afraid of what will happen if they succumb to it again. Could we chance getting hurt again? Why was there always the threat of ensuing pain when love came into the picture? That the pain always seemed to be inevitable? I wasn’t sure and for that, I hesitated, though the hesitation was killing me. I wanted to move forward but I didn’t know how. But I knew that this was a big obstacle for me. I wasn’t looking for love right then but I knew it might have just landed in my lap with Gil. I was afraid of it, afraid of the way he looked at me, like he felt something. And he did. I felt it, too. But it was too soon after my breakup.

We’d have to try this again later. He’d just have to understand. So, I tried to push past him but he wouldn’t let me open the door so he could, then, step through it and leave. I stepped back and crossed my arms, glaring at him. Why wouldn’t he just go? I wanted him to leave so I could make a plan about what to do with my life now and somehow, get wrapped back up in my security, the security which was now evading me. I felt insecure not knowing what I was going to do. But I knew one thing for sure and that was I wasn’t going to continue this…this…whatever this was he and I had. This just wouldn’t work out. This was too much for me. I couldn’t handle it, these mind games. I just wanted him to go. Why wouldn’t he just go?

But I knew the answer to this. It was because he knew why I’d invited him here in the first place and it certainly wasn’t for coffee and stimulating conversation. He knew I wanted to get fucked and he wanted to fuck me. The problem was that I was too inhibited. I had trouble asking for sex, even admitting I wanted it to myself. I just couldn’t cross that line to get what I wanted. Of course, he was going to let me get what I wanted and that was because he more than wanted to give it to me, if only I could just open myself up to allow it. That was the problem, getting past the self-consciousness and onto the sex. But I’d always been like that, even with my ex. That might have been why we broke up. He wanted sex all the time and I didn’t. I was content to just read a book or watch TV. He was a pushover though and he let me have it my way. We rarely had sex and when we did, it wasn’t that spectacular. But Gil? Well, he was different. He wanted sex and wasn’t afraid to let me know that he wanted it. Besides that, he wasn’t a pushover. Moreover, he liked to play games, mind games. I almost think he just loved to torment me in that way. It gave him a kick to wind me up and watch me go crazy. I suppose it would be entertaining for him if I did.

“Just one kiss,” he said. “Come on. Let’s just try it. Just one kiss.”

Just one kiss… But I knew that one would lead to two and I was terrified of three. I wasn’t built for this, for this strong sexual attraction, for this need. But he made me want him. He was tall and muscular. He was handsome; his dark hair lightened by the sun and his skin tanned by it. He was a man, pure and simple, and that meant he was strong. I was a woman. Did that make me weak? I knew I was weakened by these games we played.

“It’s supposed to be fun,” I muttered.

“It is fun,” he replied. “We just have to get through this awkward part.”

He was waiting on me, waiting me out. He was being patient. He was willing to help me through this, to take me to the other side. But I didn’t know why it was so hard for me to just do it. Why was it so hard? Why did I feel the need to cover it up and pretend I didn’t have it this need? And the need was for sex, pure and simple. I wanted sex. I just couldn’t allow myself to admit I wanted it. And I couldn’t allow him to see how much I wanted it. But I did want it and I wanted to feel the satisfaction from having it. So, why couldn’t I go through with it? With the sex? What was the big deal? It was just sex. I was a free woman; it was okay if I fucked him. But something in me held me back, kept me subdued, kept me from getting what I wanted.

“Come on, Mina,” he muttered and stepped in closer to me. “Come on, just one kiss.”

Just one kiss… Just one. That’s all. One kiss. Why not? Why not just one kiss? What could it hurt? I was afraid of letting go, that’s all, of trusting, of getting hurt again. And I knew that if I allowed Gil in and he hurt me, it would kill me. I already felt more for him than I ever had for my ex. That’s what scared me, that’s what held me back. It was causing my erratic behavior. It was blocking me and would not let me through. And it was just fear, plain and simple. I was too afraid to go through with it, the sex. I was too afraid of falling in love again. The sex would cement our attraction and then… Well, I couldn’t really handle another breakup any time soon. I, simply, didn’t want to get hurt.

He was waiting. He was waiting on me. This was it. Do it, do it now, get it over with. And so I did. No more holding back, driving myself crazy. This was it. Now. Do it now.

He was still waiting. Would he wait forever? I doubted it. He would soon grow bored with me, with this little goody-goody act I had. But I wasn’t a goody-goody. Not really. Never had been. So why could I not just cross that line and get what I wanted? And what I wanted was to be fucked by him, this handsome man who had, more or less, been waiting patiently on me. I realized he wasn’t the one playing games, I was. That made me feel embarrassed. That made me realize I was acting like a fool, like an idiot. It made me want to do it, to take what he was offering me. I knew our sex wouldn’t be the “slam, bam, thank you ma’am” variety. I knew he had something up his sleeve and the thought of letting him do whatever he wanted to do to me made me more than just a little nervous. But what would he do to me? It was as intriguing as it was scary. Maybe I should… No. I wasn’t going to play that game again. I was going to get what I wanted. And so, yes, it was time. But could I do it? I could. Surely, I could. I just had to have some faith in myself; I had to have some trust in Gil. I had to let go of the fear of him hurting me. And I had to fuck him. I had to do it. It was the only way to get through this block. This was what men and women do, right? I could do it, too.

“Mina?” he said. “What’s next?”

“I don’t know,” I said, leaving it up to him. “You figure it out.”

“Does that mean that you trust me?”

I thought about that and nodded in the affirmative. I did. I trusted him. I said, “Yes. I trust you.”

He smiled. I couldn’t smile back. I was too nervous. And I wanted it. I wanted him to do it and do it quickly so I could end this madness. I was in such a twist about everything since my breakup I didn’t know what to do or how to think. Maybe this was too soon, but then again, I couldn’t stay by myself for an eternity. And I wasn’t saving myself for any sort of future relationship. I had to live in the moment and the moment right now dictated that I fuck Gil. He was the best bet to get me over this barrier.

“Yes, Gil,” I said. “You can do whatever you like.”

He smiled. He liked that idea. He came over to me, bending down a little and took my face in his hands. I allowed him to look into my eyes and then let him brush his lips against mine. Shivers went up and down my spine and I began to panic and want to run away again. But there was no going back. No going back after this. I was sick of going back. I just wanted to go forward.

“Gil,” I said and pushed him away. “I just—”

He wouldn’t let me finish. He shook his head. “You said you trusted me.”

I had said that.

“So be quiet,” he demanded.

I nodded and stopped talking, thinking, reacting. I was headed into the moment. I knew that’s where I was going and I was going fast. No stopping now.

“Relax,” he said. “We’ll take it slow.”

I nodded and allowed him to walk me back though the living room and into the bedroom. I allowed him to push me down on the bed and then… Then I felt so stupid, like a virgin. Maybe I was a virgin again. I hadn’t been with another man since the day I’d met my boyfriend, nearly five years ago, when I was only twenty-six. That was a long time to spend with just one man. Wasn’t it?

“Close your eyes,” he said.

I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip.

“Now just relax,” he said and began to caress my body. “God, you’re so beautiful. Anyone ever told you that?”

I nodded. Yeah, I’d gotten that line a few times. Once I was at a party and a guy was flirting with me. After a while, he leaned back and said, “You’re very beautiful.” It made me nervous, though, and made me wonder why he had done such a thing, mostly because I had gone to the party with my ex-boyfriend and I was more than sure he had come with a date. But I just shrugged it off and excused myself, feeling slightly odd. Fact was, I rarely felt beautiful. I knew I looked good, but I was never comfortable with it. I wanted to be comfortable with it. I wanted to show the world I liked who I was and I liked the way I looked. It was a hard thing for me to do, though.

But Gil wanted me to feel it. He wanted me to feel beautiful. He was taking his time to undress me. My shirt was now on the floor. Then he was pushing his hand across my chest, then down to my breasts, still secure in my bra. My nipples rose up in anticipation of his mouth and I began to yearn for him. My heartbeat escalated and my breathing became faster. I could feel his hand on my breast. I could feel the need in his body. He needed this to go through. He’d been patient long enough. But… But…

I rose up on my elbows and pushed him away. He paused and stared at me, then his head dropped and I could read his thoughts: Again? She’s doing this again? And I was. What was wrong with me? It was in there, that sexuality, and it wanted out. Why couldn’t I let it out?

Without a word, he rose from the bed, staring me in the eye. I stared back, thinking he was leaving and this time for good. But I was wrong. What he did next shocked me.

He went over to my dresser and pulled out the top drawer, rummaged around then pushed it back in and went the next and then the next and then the next like he was looking for something. I started to say something, to ask him what he was doing but he held a hand up, silencing me. I didn’t speak and waited to see what he was doing. Finally, he stopped. He had apparently found what he was looking for and pulled something out of the last drawer. I recognized it as a scarf I sometimes tied around my head to get that mod, sixties rich girl on a yacht look. I loved that scarf. But what was he doing with it?

I sat up as he neared the bed and waited. He leaned over and wrapped the scarf around my eyes, covering them. What was he doing? My eyes were covered. I was in the dark. He was in control. I felt a slight panic.

“Gil,” I began to protest. “What are—”

“I’m done with this,” he said. “Now you can either do this or I will leave. This is it, Mina. I won’t try again.”

“But what are you doing?” I asked. I’d never had this done to me before.

“Why don’t you just trust me?” he said, growing impatient again.

Trust him? Could I? Should I? But… But…

“This is what it’s going to take,” he said and pushed me back on the bed. “Just go with it.”

I tensed. I didn’t like feeling so vulnerable, so open and raw. But then I realized something. If he was in control, then I wasn’t. If he had control, then all I had to do was follow his lead. I no longer had to think about it. I could surrender control of what was going to happen. If I did that, everything might just fall into place and allow me to sate my ever growing sexual appetite for him. It was about surrender, wasn’t it? Surrendering oneself to another so they could do as they pleased to you, to your body and soul. For your love, even. Surrendering yourself so that someone else could bring out the desires in you that would have otherwise stayed hidden. Was that what might come out of this? Love? Something to cherish, to hold onto, to take and to consume?

And so, I surrendered. I let him have control. The reins were in his hands now. And then… Then I heard him removing his belt. His belt. I tensed with anticipation and waited, turning my face to the side and I listened with rapt attention, trying to figure out what he was doing, what he was going to do with the belt. Then my arms were above my head and he was tying my hands together with his belt. With his belt. What the hell? And what could I do? All of a sudden, I didn’t care. I was going with it. I began to feel something different, something tantalizing. I began to feel arousal and anticipation of what was to come. Next, my legs were tied with what I assumed was another scarf from my dresser. In less than a minute, I had been rendered submissive. Now I no longer had a choice. I had to do as he wanted.

As he wanted. And then I realized this was what he had planned all along, to get me to submit to him, to his desires. And, oddly enough, I was fine with that. I began to feel excitement then, wondering what he was going to do next. But just before I handed myself over to the experience, my good old friend insecurity showed up. And, along with it, my good old friend fear.

“Gil,” I said, on the verge of panicking. “I don’t like this.”

“Shh,” he said and covered my mouth with his hand. “Be quiet.”

I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and wanted to say something. But I didn’t. I don’t know what happened but all of a sudden, I knew that it was okay. I was getting so turned on, I no longer cared. I knew what he was doing and he was putting me in a position to surrender control and so I was. And all I kept thinking was: What would he do next?

He rolled me over.

His hands were all over me then, touching me, massaging me. It felt good, relaxing. Then he slipped my black pencil skirt off and threw it to the side. Now I was lying there in my underwear, feeling more than just a little vulnerable, more than just a little nervous. He’d never seen me naked before.

But he didn’t make a move to take off my bra or my panties, a black lace set that showed off my trim body. No, not yet. He just stared at me. I couldn’t see him staring at me as my eyes were covered, but he was. I could feel his heavy gaze and that made my heart beat even more rapidly.

“Gil,” I said, wondering why he was hesitating. It was killing me, the waiting. What was he going to do next?

“One minute,” he said and left the room.

“What?” I asked but he didn’t respond. A minute later, he was back in the room, standing over me. Then he bent and turned me over and pushed my hips up into the air, my elbows on the bed, hands still tied. And then I felt it, a thin, leather tipped thing. It took me a second but I suddenly recognized it as my riding crop and he was moving it down my back and to my buttocks. And without a word, he gave me a good, quick tap right across the ass. I was about to say something, but then I heard him murmur, “Shhh….”

Shhhh… So, I was silent. I also burned with embarrassment as the crop tapped onto my skin. My face, my entire body was lit up. I didn’t know what to do. He was, essentially, whipping me with a riding crop. And then he did it again. Harder. I felt like I should tell him to stop, to make him stop. He shouldn’t be doing this to me. I wasn’t ready for something like this. This was too much for me. I was way in over my head.

I opened my mouth to tell him to stop but something in me told me to wait, to see what he was going to do next. He gave me another lick and then another and then I began to feel it; I felt the tension, all the tension in my body, ease and then subside and then I began to moan loudly. And I began to tingle in anticipation. I waited, breathless, and wanted more. This was something I couldn’t control and I liked the feeling. He gave me a few more licks, just slight taps, then finished it off with one solid swat that burned into my skin. I forced my face into the pillow and held back a wail. Oh, but I was loving this. I was surprised. It was odd that someone like me, someone who only enjoyed sex occasionally, would like such a thing. But that’s when I realized he was doing this to get me to submit to my sexual desires and the crop was nothing more than an instrument that aided in his dominance. To let me know on a primal level that he was the boss.

I tried not to think about it. It was a little overwhelming. And, so, I just concentrated on the pleasure I felt, the freedom and the liberation that good, hot and, yes, kinky sex can give a woman.

He discarded the riding crop after that. He rubbed and then kissed the places on my skin where the crop had been, then turned me over onto my back. I lay there and drew in a breath as he climbed over me.

And he began.

He began to directly bring it out in me, this sexual being that was being held captive. His hands began to roam my body, moving over my breasts which were still in my bra and then down my stomach and then down my legs, then back up again. His hands were flat and smooth as they traced lines on my curves and as they paused to squeeze a breast.

I was there, in that moment, and I was slowly but surely coming even more alive. I could feel the tingles starting to happen and I could feel my inner being begin to allow it to happen, to want it to happen. His hands continued to explore me, my body, resting ever so often, holding still to make me move. To make me ache for it. And I began to move, to arch away from the bed, towards his body to long for his lips, for his kiss.

But he made me wait. He was making me cross that line into want. I had to want it; I had to beg for it and he was making sure I did. I had to cross that line, all while tied up and secured.

Yet, I did not let any words came from my lips, no begging, no pleading. I wasn’t ready to go there yet. And, so, nothing came from him. Just silence. Just the rustle of the comforter on the bed as he moved over me.

And then… Then he did it. He was a man and he knew how to use this to get me to take what he wanted me to have. His lips were near mine, nearly grazing them, just softly, just slightly out of reach. I found myself rising up a little and trying to meet his mouth. I was itching to touch his lips, his soft and full lips, the ones that had touched mine before. He pulled away, not letting me have it, not letting me kiss him, making me want it, making me have to have it. But I was tied up and couldn’t grab his face and pull it to mine. I could only lie there and try to get him to kiss me. And so I realized what he was waiting for and so I began to beg. I had to. I had no other choice.

“Please,” I breathed.

He didn’t respond and continued to tease me by almost meeting my lips.

“Please, Gil,” I said a little louder.

But nothing. He wasn’t giving into me so easily.

“Please, please, please!” I moaned. “I have to have it. Please. Give it to.”

“What?” he asked. “What do you want?”

“For you to kiss me,” I said, waiting and wanting. “Kiss me!”

“And then what? What do you want?”

“You,” I said. “I want you. You! Kiss me!”

“And then?”

“More,” I breathed. “I want you to do whatever you want to do.” And I did. I wanted more than that, much, much more. It was there, right there and I had to take care of this need. “Please, just do it. Don’t torment me like this.”

He paused, waiting. He had gotten what he wanted and he still wasn’t doing anything. What was I missing? Was I not doing something right? He had proven his dominance. He was in control. I was willing to do whatever he wanted. I was over this. I wanted to stop playing this game. I wanted him and I wanted him now.

I told him, “Fuck me. Fuck me! Now!”

And that’s all it took. His lips came down hard on mine then, almost crushing me. He pushed himself on top of me and that’s when I realized I’d crossed the line. I was ready to fuck. This was what he was waiting for, for me to be so ready that there was no way I could back out of it. And I was ready, so, so ready.

“Mmmm,” I moaned and began to lick at his mouth, slipping my tongue in so he could suck on it then offer me his. We kissed for minutes, really, really getting into it, taking it all the way.

His mouth then began to make its way down my body, just as his hands did and this time, he took full control. He pushed my bra aside and grabbed onto a nipple, sucking it into his mouth and biting down a little. I arched from the bed and wanted to grab his head and hold it there but I couldn’t. My hands were still tied. Then he was at the other breast, a nipple in his mouth, eating at it, sucking at it as his other hand grabbed the other breast and squeezed tight.

I moaned with pure pleasure, with lust, wanting him, all of him, inside of me, fucking me. But not yet; he had other ideas. His head was going down, further and further down until his nose was at the top of my panties, then his teeth were grabbing and tugging them down. My legs were squeezed tightly together as they were tied, but that didn’t stop him. He was licking at me, down there, going for it. I wanted him in between my legs, sucking and licking at me.

So, he untied the scarf that was binding my legs together and pushed them apart and in one quick motion, pulled my panties off so that I was now fully exposed. And he dove in. He licked my inner thighs all the way down to my knees, then back up again. He could see that I was already wet, well, more than wet; I was literally dripping. He pressed his face in between my legs. Another moan came out of my mouth and I found myself wanting my hands in his hair, playing with it, tugging at it as he began to bite and nibble at my pussy. It was swollen, so swollen now. I couldn’t take it. It felt so good and I wanted more. I was ready for much, much more. And I wanted to see him but my eyes were still covered by the scarf. When would he take that off? I wanted it off. But… Not just yet.

His fingers were playing with me, pushing inside of me. He took his time to explore me then pushed his face into my naked pussy. I could feel his breath and I could feel his mouth eating me. I shivered and began to move with him, pushing myself onto him, grinding on his face as he licked and sucked on me.

It didn’t take long. There was nothing I could do but come. And I came hard, harder than I’d ever come before. It might have been all the anticipation building up to this that made me erupt like that. It could have been because he was so good at it. I didn’t know what it was, but when the orgasm hit me, I was liberated. Everything ceased to matter. My body just lit up and my soul soared within me.

After that, there was no stopping me. “You have to fuck me now,” I moaned, wanting to look at him. “Fuck me now.”

But he stopped and asked, “Are you sure?”

I nodded.

He came to me, his mouth near mine, his hand again went between my legs and began to play. I moved with his hand, almost to orgasm as he pressed his lips to mine. I licked and sucked at his lips as his hands continued to play with my pussy. My legs opened wider and he settled between them, still clothed.

“Fuck me,” I began to beg, wishing the scarf was off my eyes so I could see him. “Please, fuck me.”

He moved away and I heard his zipper pull, then the sound of him pulling off his pants and underwear and his shirt. He was now naked. I wished I could have seen that as his body was trim and hard and muscular in clothes. Out of clothes, I was more than sure it looked even better. But then he was on the bed, back between my legs, his hard cock teasing me, sliding up and down before finding its way in.

I gasped from the pressure of it, from the size. I gasped from the pleasure of having it in me. It felt so new, so nice, so good. It felt right.

He took the scarf off my face as he fucked me and we stared into each other’s eyes as we did it, his forehead pressed against mine. We didn’t look away and we didn’t hesitate. We were doing it and we were doing it right. We were doing what we were meant to do with one another.

We were in sync. My hips rose up off the bed and my lust just took over my whole body. I was so into it, I couldn’t control myself. I wanted another orgasm and I wanted his cock to give it to me. I could feel another climax deep within me, ready to be released and his cock was going to take me to it.

He untied my hands and now they were free to roam his body as he fucked me. I felt his back, his wide and muscular back, then grabbed his face, pulling it to mine and kissing him. I had felt so constrained before but now I felt free. Now I could concentrate on what it was all about and what it was all about was the fucking.

He moaned deeply as I rode him, as I fucked him. He was trying to hold back, trying not come. He could sense the orgasm in my body, he could tell I was about to have a big one and he was doing everything in his power to ensure it. He held on, he held me tight as I finally found the groove which would take me to heaven. Nothing mattered then. Nothing in the world mattered but doing this and getting it. I had to have it. It was coming and I could feel it, deep inside. It was making my legs numb and my heart beat fiercely. It was making me hot and sweaty, the effort of doing it, of not being able to stop. It was making me strong. It was making him weak. He was about to burst. He was about to come.

Then I felt it. It started slow but built fast. It was coming strong. It was fierce and it was love and it was desire and it was all the things in the world I’d always wanted. It was mine! I grabbed onto it and a wail came out of me that I couldn’t control. Then he began to really fuck me and that helped me hold onto it longer. It was a big one, a big orgasm. It took me over and then handed me myself back. Then it dissolved slowly and left me feeling weak but so satisfied.

He was pumping into me. He was coming. He was coming fast and hard with everything he had. I grabbed onto him and held him tight as he came inside me and shivered as it filled me up. He shivered, too, then kept pumping until there was nothing left, nothing left to do but fall on me and hold me tight, like he was never going to let me go.

The first thought in my mind was, Why had I held back so much? I knew that I’d denied myself pleasure and that wasn’t right. But then it didn’t matter and I couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, it had been that good. It was everything I’d expected, everything I’d wanted. And I’d wanted it for so long. I’d needed it, too. Now I had it. And there was no going back. What had been the big deal? What was I so afraid of? It was more than spectacular. It had been everything I ever allowed myself to want. And I wanted more.

I lay there and listened to the ticking of the alarm clock on the nightstand and felt very, very satisfied. This was what it was all about. It was just fucking. It was just sex, getting off. It was about him dominating me and me submitting. It was about being contained so I could fly free. It was fun. It was so much fun. I wanted to do it again and again.

“How do you feel?” he asked and kissed my shoulder.

I turned to stare into his eyes, so deep blue and said, “I feel great. It’s just what I needed. You were right about that.”

He nodded. “Told you.”

After he left, I wondered, What have I gotten myself into? I felt a surge of excitement combined with the dread of the unknown. But that didn’t stop me from wanting him to come back soon. And quickly. I knew I was falling for him, fast and hard. I knew I was being vulnerable and that I might get hurt. But I had to do it. I had to succumb. I had no choice. Love might hurt but I knew that living without this man would be absolutely unbearable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You, Me and Him

A Ménage Erotica Short